by R. B. Conroy
“Oh, I’m not going anywhere, Dan. I just wanted to take a morning ride and give my horse here a little work. Besides, you should know enough about what happened at the Dead End by now to know that I’m innocent.”
“Well, Lou did say it was self defense,” Cook said begrudgingly. “But I still have other people to talk to who might have a different story.”
“You better be careful there, Sheriff. I don’t think that your Mr. Stanton would like to hear that you were tryin’ to prove that his brother is a liar—even if you are tryin’ to put me in jail.” Jon grinned at the agitated sheriff.
“Just be sure that you’re in town tomorrow, Stoudenmire.”
“Oh, don’t worry, Dan. I’m not goin’ anywhere soon. I kinda like all of the attention I’ve been getting around here lately.” He smiled broadly. “Now can I get on with my morning ride? My horse is getting a little antsy.”
“Just be sure you’re here in the morning,” the sheriff said firmly as he reined around and headed back to town.
Dan Cook seemed angered by his meeting with Stoudenmire, but Jon knew that any further investigation would only besmirch the reputation of brother Lou and that George Stanton would not stand for that. Cook was damned if he did and damned if he didn’t. More than likely, he would have to come up with another way to deal with Jon. Jon knew that he had to be ready for anything from the determined sheriff.
After the long ride through the lush countryside, Babe lurched up the final rocky hill toward the camps. Jon reined up at the top of the hill and looked down at the surprising scene below. The surrounding hills were a beehive of activity as scores of miners scurried about preparing for another long, hard day of prospecting. Campfires flickered in the morning dew, steam rose from the many metal coffeepots sitting atop the hot flames, and the smell of bacon, grits, and biscuits filled the air. Men were standing in a nearby stream shouting and laughing; a few held up small pieces of broken mirror as they took their morning shave. Some were in the stream panning for the elusive gold nuggets, while the more fortunate prospectors sifted through the dirt in their long toms. On land, the surface miners and dry diggers were spread out over the hills as far as Jon could see. “Now I see what Stanton’s after,” he whispered as he spurred Babe forward and rode slowly into the busy camps. Just inside the entrance to the camp a man jumped out of his tent, hair a mess, and began to scurry around, looking for wood for a fire.
“Pardon me,” Jon shouted.
The scraggly man spun around. “Yeah, what can I do for ya?”
“I’m looking for Ned Sloan’s camp. Ya know where—”
“Yeah, yeah,” the busy miner pointed. “He’s up over that far knoll, down near the stream.”
“Thank ya kindly,” Jon replied as the busy miner went back to work.
As Jon approached Ned Sloan’s campsite, he saw a very large man leaning over the campfire preparing breakfast. He was holding an iron skillet that smelled of bacon and grits over the hot coals of his campfire. Still a little hungry, Jon’s stomach growled.
Ned Sloan looked warily up from the campfire.
“Howdy, stranger. What can I do for you?” The former military man was startled by Jon’s sudden appearance.
“Well, uh, I believe you may be just the man I’m looking for,” replied Jon. “Are you Ned Sloan?”
“Sure am. And I am not selling my claim, so if you are here on behalf of Mr. Stanton, turn that horse of yours around and go back where you came from.” The big man spoke with authority as he grabbed hold of the Winchester rifle lying next to him. A stranger in camp right now could mean trouble for the miners, and Sloan wasn’t taking any chances. “Don’t make any quick moves, mister,” he ordered.
Jon spoke calmly to the edgy miner. “Stoudenmire’s my name. And I’m sure not here on behalf of Mr. Stanton. In fact, just the opposite. Cliff Stone’s my cousin.”
Slightly embarrassed, Ned sat the rifle down. “Oh, uh, Cliff told me all about you, Stoudenmire. I guess I didn’t expect to see you up this way. Sorry for being so jumpy.”
“No offense taken.” Jon jumped down and shook Ned’s outstretched hand.
“Welcome, Jon. Come on in.”
“Thank ya, Ned. I’m just happy you didn’t blow my head off,” Jon chuckled.
Sloan’s aggressive behavior showed Jon that he was a man of action. This was the kind of man he was looking for—someone tough enough to stand up to George Stanton and his hired guns.
A smile broke out on Ned’s square face. “You just can’t be too careful ‘round here nowadays,” he said. “Stanton and his boys are really putting the pressure on, and it could get ugly very quickly. Breakfast is just about ready—will you join me?”
“Thought you’d never ask.” Jon tied Babe to a bush and sat down by the fire.
“Coffee?”
“Sounds good.”
Ned lifted the pot; the hot liquid splashed into Jon’s cup. While Ned was pouring, Jon took the opportunity to survey the campsite. He liked what he saw. It was very well organized. The fire wood was neatly stacked, his tent was perfectly pitched and everything was in its place. This was the camp of a former military man, a military officer. It was another example of a no-nonsense guy. But more than anything, Jon was impressed with the man himself. He was a huge man, over six feet tall and weighing well over two hundred pounds. His large frame and broad shoulders made him a very imposing figure for any adversary.
Sloan took a sip of coffee and looked straight at Jon. “Before I ask you what brings you up here, Jon, I want to tell you something.”
Eyes wide, Jon looked intently at Sloan.
The former officer continued, “Cliff said you’ve got a reputation and that you recently shot down one of Stanton’s men in the Dead End. That could be a problem. I’m not sure what the others miners are gonna think about our joining forces with a hired gun.”
Jon winced at the hired gun comment. He calmed himself and then spoke. “Well, Ned, I know what you’re saying, but let me assure you that there are no wanted posters out for me, and I’m no hired gun. The men I’ve killed were in the defense of myself or a friend.”
“That’s good, Jon, but I have to be perfectly honest. One of the miners told me that you’ve got a short fuse and when it goes off, people get hurt.”
Jon’s brow furrowed. “You seem like a decent sort, Ned, but you’ve insulted me twice.” Jon stared hard at Sloan and spoke calmly. “I got a temper all right, but I use it to fight men like George Stanton and his hired guns. No innocent man need ever fear Jon Stoudenmire.”
Ned was taken aback by the strong response. “I’m sorry, Jon. I didn’t mean to offend you. I just heard some rumors, that’s all. Then Cliff told me about the fight in the saloon, and I just—”
Jon interrupted. “No offense taken, I understand; but we best get started. These men are going to be damn hard to beat—especially with the local sheriff in their back pocket. We haven’t got any time to waste.”
“Let me apologize again, Jon, and tell you how glad I am that you’re on board with us!”
“Don’t mention it, my friend.” Jon smiled at the genuinely contrite miner.
“I think the bacon is about done. How about some grub?” Ned tossed some grits and bacon on a plate and handed it to Jon.
“Thank you.” Jon was impressed with Ned Sloan; the other miners respected him, and he was smart and tough.
- - - - -
“That was damn good grub.” Jon set the empty plate on the ground. “I guess you military guys really know how to cook.”
“Thank you, Jon, but it was my mama that taught me how to cook, not the military. Those military cooks will kill you,” Ned laughed as he gathered up Jon’s plate.
Jon lit a cigar. “Smoke?” he asked.
“Don’t mind if I do.” Ned scraped the scraps under a nearby cactus and threw the dirty dishes in a pan full of soapy water near the campfire.
Jon picked another cigar out of his pocket and handed it
to the massive miner.
“Ned, I have one last request of you,” Jon said as he leaned forward to light Ned’s cigar.
“Fire away.”
“I think a man like you can rally support from the miners all right, and that’s good. But we’re gonna need a couple of men who are willing to fight these varmints up close, man to man. Does anyone come to mind?”
The cigar smoke disappeared into the morning breeze as Jon waited for Ned’s reply. He sat quiet for a while and then spoke up.
“Well, first of all, in case you hadn’t figured it out, you can count me in.”
Jon grinned. “I already had ya in, partner.”
“As far as the other fellas, I think I know a couple who might fit the bill. Red Elliot and I served together in the Confederacy. He’s a stand up guy. I think there is a chance he would jump in. And there’s another fellow named Jack Malone. He’s a former lawman from the Kansas territory—he’s fearless and a crack shot.”
“Tell me, Ned, would you be willin’ to talk with these men and let me know what you find out?”
“Yeah, no problem, Jon. I’ll be seeing those boys later today. I’ll get back to you tomorrow evening.”
“Sounds good. I have to be in town in the morning to meet with Dan Cook. Then I’ll plan on ridin’ out here tomorrow evenin’ to see what ya found out.” Jon dusted his chaps as he stood to leave. “By the way, when you’re out in the camps today, if you would, stop by Cliff Stone’s place and bring him up to speed.”
“I was planning on it.”
“It’s been a pleasure.” Jon mounted up and reined around toward town.
Ned gave a thumbs up as Babe reared and charged down the trail.
The hot desert sun was rising in the morning sky as Jon galloped back to town. He was encouraged by how well things had gone with Ned Sloan. He was sure Ned could get the miners to join in Jon’s effort to stop Stanton and his gang of killers, and the help couldn’t have come at a better time. But Jon knew that sooner or later, word of his visit would get back to Stanton. Several miners had ridden past Jon when he came into camp that morning. One of them might have recognized him and might then try to curry favor with Stanton by telling him of Jon’s visit. Also, Ned’s recruiting trip to the other campsites would also draw some attention. Jon had to make good use of the time available; he knew that he could be facing Dave Barton and Stanton’s other hired guns soon enough.
- - - - -
Jon arrived in town and pulled up in front of Callahan’s. As he pushed into the lobby, Maggie stuck her head out of her apartment door.
“Morning, Jon.”
A surprised Jon quickly tipped his hat to the lovely Miss Callahan. “Mornin’, Maggie. How are you?” he asked clumsily.
“Just fine, thank you. I’m sorry to interrupt your day, Jon, but I was wondering if you could give me a hand. I have an armoire I would like to move, and it’s too heavy for me. Can you help a girl?”
“Why…uh, certainly, Maggie. But I…uh, just got in off the trail, and it’s plenty hot out there. Maybe I should go up to my room and—”
Maggie interrupted. “Oh, don’t worry about that, silly, you look fine to me. I grew up with four brothers, for heaven’s sake.”
“Well, okay Maggie, what have we got?” Jon skirted around the front desk toward her apartment. Maggie nudged the door open ever so slightly as Jon stepped in, forcing him to brush up against her. Clad only in a blue silk bathrobe, her long brown hair was hanging loosely on her shoulders. The scent of her expensive perfume filled the small boudoir. He saw a black floral bathtub in the corner, ready to be emptied.
“It’s right over here, Jon.” Maggie walked over near the armoire. “If you could just move it a few feet over next to the nightstand by my bed, I would appreciate it.”
Jon smiled and stepped next to the large oak armoire. Maggie bent over to move the small nightstand out of the way. As she was leaning down, the silk belt on her robe came loose. The robe fell open, exposing her nude body. After an unavoidable glimpse at her shapely figure, Jon quickly looked away.
Maggie set the nightstand down, slowly pulled her robe together and retied the belt. “Darn robe,” she said matter-of-factly. “It’s always coming loose.”
Jon was surprised by Maggie’s lack of embarrass-ment. He wrapped his big hands around the base of the armoire, leaned down and pushed hard with his thighs. It begrudgingly slid over a few feet.
“Well, there you are, Maggie. Glad I could help.” Slightly uncomfortable, Jon was in a hurry to leave, but Maggie was having no part of his quick exodus. She gently grabbed his arm, stopping his retreat. Her face was red and flushed as she spoke. “Thank you so much, Jon. It’s awfully hard for a girl living alone. Sometimes a big strong man like you comes in handy.” She smiled flirtatiously as she squeezed tighter on his arm. Her robe was slightly open at the top, revealing her delicious, well-shaped breasts. Strong emotions began to stir inside of Jon as he stared at her exposed cleavage; his knees started to shake. Certain of her motives at this point, he was finding her hard to resist.
Maggie’s delicate fingers slid up the back of Jon’s arm; she gently rubbed up and down on his bicep. His knees got weaker. “Won’t you stay a while?” she pleaded as she slipped in front of him. Her robe fell open once again as she pulled him closer. Breathing hard, she forced her naked body up against him, pushing harder and harder. Jon could feel her firm breasts pressing against his chest. His mind was racing; he wanted her badly. It had been so long since he had been with a woman.
“Jon…Jon, I’ve been waiting so long for—”
Suddenly Jon put his hands on her shoulders and pushed her back. Embarrassed, she quickly pulled her robe together and crossed her arms in front of her. Her eyes went to the floor.
“I’m sorry, Maggie. You’re one hell of a sexy lady, but somethin’ tells me this is headin’ for nothin’ but trouble. You see, I got this little girl down Arizona way that I think’s really somethin’. And you’ve been seeing Stanton and all. Little lady, I got enough trouble on my hands right now. I don’t need any more. I best be goin’ before it’s too late.” His hands dropped from her shoulders, and he walked quickly to the door.
- - - - -
The door clicked shut as Maggie yanked an onyx pin from her hair and tossed it across the room. “Damn!” she shouted as she plopped down on the bed. Humiliated, she punched angrily at the pillow lying next to her on the bed.
- - - - -
As Jon hurried out and closed the door, he was surprised to see a smallish, dark-skinned man standing in the corner of the lobby holding a bouquet of roses.
“Maggie home?” the surprised man asked.
“Why…uh, yes…uh, she’s in there,” an uneasy Jon replied as he walked over and started up the stairway. Jon looked down from the stairs as the man walked over and knocked on Maggie’s door. The door opened quickly. She thinks it’s me, Jon thought.
“Oh, you not dressed! So sorry, Miss Maggie! I come at a bad time!”
A nervous Maggie replied, “That’s okay, Pedro. What can I do for you?”
“I have some roses from George.”
“Damn it!” Jon groused as he reached the top of the stairs and stormed into his room.
Chapter 10
Late that evening, there was a loud knock on the door. Jon hurried over to answer it. “Yes?” he inquired, without opening the door.
“It’s Cliff. Got a minute?”
Jon turned the brass knob and quickly opened the door at the familiar sound of Cliff’s voice. “Hello, Cliff. How are ya? Please come in.”
A look of concern clouded Cliff’s face as he entered the room.
Jon slid a chair over to his cousin and sat down on the corner of the bed.
“We can talk now. Tell me what’s on your mind.”
“First, thanks again for staying on to help us with this mess,” Cliff said sincerely.
“No problem, cus. I would like nothing better than to put Stanton, B
arton, and the boys in the ground.”
“You may have your chance before you know it. Things are heatin’ up out at the camps. Curly Harmon, an old timer who was working a thick vein near the rim of the canyon, came up missing today.”
The light filtering through the hotel window fell across Cliff’s face. Jon could see the strain in his eyes as he told him about old Curly.
“Some of the miners talked to him last evening, and he said he’d been having some good luck lately. He told ’em he was going to get up early today and work his vein hard. When one of ’em went by his stake around noon, Curly was nowhere to be found. His donkey and tools were right where they had been the evening before.”
“Looks like foul play,” Jon surmised.
“Yeah, and the tension is really mounting. They think Stanton had Curly murdered so he could jump his claim. Curly was popular and well-liked—the miners are plenty angry and running scared right now.”
“I’ll bet they are,” Jon said as he fell back on the bed. “I talked to Ned Sloan earlier about getting a few of the boys together out at the mines to help fight Stanton’s group. With this miner coming up missing, it could help Ned’s recruiting efforts.”
“Yeah, I know. Ned stopped by my camp today and brought me up to snuff. He said Stanton got wind of your visit, later Barton showed up at his campsite. Barton told him he’s comin’ into town for a heart to heart with you tonight.”
“Hmmm…doesn’t surprise me,” Jon said quietly, “but Barton’s little showdown with me will have to wait. I need to know what Ned has put together out at the mines first.” Jon jumped up from the bed. “Let’s go back out to the camps and talk to Ned Sloan.”
“Okay, Jon.”
Jon spun the cylinders on his Colts to be sure they were fully loaded. He tossed his hat on and started toward the door. “No time to waste, Cliff. Let’s get going.”
The door slammed behind them as the two men hurried out.
Chapter 11